


Curiouser and Curiouser

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was taking tumblr prompts and Tygermama hit me with this one:</p>
<p>Ritchie!Holmes meets Molly Hooper</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiouser and Curiouser

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tygermama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygermama/gifts).



“I swear to God, Sherlock,” Molly shouted back as she rooted through the closet. “If this is an experiment of yours to see whether or not I’m claustrophobic — “

“It’s not,” Sherlock’s sonorous voice boomed from the other side. “I need you to find that medical journal for me.”

“Well if you kept everything neater and I don’t know why you need it so badly now —” Molly cursed. Why on earth she was in the supply closet, looking for this obscure journal for Sherlock was beyond her. No, she knew why. She was a soft touch when it came to him and when he batted his eyes at her and said only she could help him, what else was she going to do?

“It’s not in here —” she shouted back. Gods — how deep did this closet go?

“Keep looking,” he said.

“I said it’s not —”

Before she could say more the floor suddenly gave way under her. Letting out a high-pitched shriek, Molly felt her stomach drop as she fell — how far was impossible to tell and how fast was also impossible to tell — for what seemed like an eternity before landing with a thump in another cupboard.

The doors flew open and two men peered at her. One was wearing bracers, tweed pants and a white shirt. His moustache bristled slightly, but there was a bemused expression in his blue eyes. The other had wild dark hair and he was wearing a worn dressing gown.

Molly’s reaction was perfectly normal for her — she fainted.

“Oh look Holmes,” the moustached man said to the other. “We’ve got a visitor.”

~~~~

It was about an hour or so before Molly woke from her faint. She found herself on a settee with a steaming cup of tea next to her.   _How English_  she thought to herself. _When in doubt, tea_.

Sitting up, she looked around the room. It was decidedly eccentric and very, very, very Victorian. There was clutter all over the room and the walls had a ghastly burgundy wallpaper. Whoever lived here was obviously a kook, she thought.

She sipped the tea, then looked around her. A medical journal caught her eye and she peered at the date. November 1894.

“Let’s make this quick shall we —” she started as she heard a voice. The two men entered the room, the dark haired one speaking rapidly as he peered at her. “Yes, it is 1894. No you’re not hallucinating. No I don’t know how you came here, but this is something that’s been happening quite frequently. I don’t know when you can go home. And no, this is not the first time this has happened to us”

“The most interesting one was a group of tiny blue men who came through,” the moustached man said with a wry smile. “Made me the temporary leader of their tribe. Quite good fun.”

“Indeed,” the dark haired man said. “Now, introductions. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague, Doctor John Watson.”

Molly barked out a laugh. “That’s impossible,” she said. “I know Sherlock Holmes and John Watson and they don’t look like you.”

The one calling himself Sherlock Holmes snorted. “Again, this is not new. I had a rather attractive Chinese woman here saying that she was Joan Watson about a year ago. Was quite put out at some of my habits, but seemed rather accustomed to them. Watson and Miss Watson seemed to have a lot of fun at my expense.”

Watson-not-Watson offered a toothy grin, then sat down in a chair and studied Molly. “She did seem to be used to you though,” he interjected. “Said her Holmes had some similar nasty habits and the like, but she was disappointed you haven’t discovered beekeeping yet.” He peered at her with a sidelong glance. “But you’re not a Watson are you?”

“No,” Molly finally replied. “I’m Molly Hooper. Of London and the year 2012.”

“Oh you have to stay for awhile!” Holmes clapped his hands together in glee. “I have to hear all about your adventures in London.”

~~~

And so, Molly told her story. About Sherlock and how he needed a certain medical journal, but couldn’t access it because it was in this curious storage cabinet that she could fit into. And how she helped him, despite being busy and needing to get her work done. How she fell and landed in their cupboard.

During this time, both men were interrogating her about the future and their counterparts (“He can’t be a Watson without a moustache,” Watson-not-Watson huffed).  By the time she finished her narration, she was surrounded by not only the two men, but a woman (introduced as Mrs. Mary Watson) who were all listening with rapt expressions.

“So how long does this occur for?” Molly asked after finishing her tale.

“No one really knows,” Mary said. “We’ve had all sorts of people traipse through and it’s quite curious to say the least. Sometimes they stay for days or weeks, sometimes just hours and minutes. How long did Joan Watson stay for?”

“A few hours if I remember correctly,” Watson said. “The ones whose lives are similar to ours don’t stay for long.”

“Perhaps its because the universe can’t have two similar beings in the same proximity,” Holmes quietly mused. “It’s highly illogical, but I can’t think of another answer.”

“Hopefully they won’t stay as long as those wee blue men,” Mary shuddered. “Thieving rascals.”

“But I have no where to go,” reality began to hit Molly and the shock began to overtake her. “Where would I go? What will I do?”

“We do what we’ve done before,” Holmes sighed. “She can stay here. Mrs. Watson — can you provide her with some more appropriate attire for society?”

“John already told me and I’ve brought some in my bag,” Mary said with a serene smile.

“Excellent,” Holmes said, leaning back. “Now we just wait.”

~~~~

Hours melted into days. Days turned into weeks, then weeks stretched into months. It was still strange for Molly, despite how companionable the Watsons were. Mary Watson was a kind and hospitable woman, offering to take Molly out on the London streets to explore, or offer some idle chit-chat to distract her from her concerns. Doctor Watson was as agreeable as his modern-day counterpart, but a bit more dashing and dangerous in Molly’s opinion.

But Holmes? This Holmes was a bit worse than the one she was accustomed to. By living in 221B, Molly found her sleep interrupted with wild screeching from the violin, odd explosions and other forms of insanity.

For the longest time, Holmes simply treated Molly like a nuisance. “You need to just stay out of my way,” he said, slamming a door in her face, after she went to investigate that odd scent emanating from the study.

“What am I to do then?” she shouted at the door, annoyed.

“I don’t know,” was the curt reply. “Something.”

So Molly did something. When Holmes finally ventured out of the study, he found a sight more gruesome than the Blackwood murders.

She had cleaned.

“MISS HOOPER!” his voice roared throughout the flat.

“Yes?” Molly peered up from a chair, where she had been dozing.

“What have you done?”

Molly got up and looked around. “Something,” she tartly replied. “I tidied up this room, given that you receive visitors, it was due for a good cleaning.”

Holmes began pacing around, looking at her handiwork, “My medical monographs —”

“Are on the bookshelf, alphabetized and also organized by year,” Molly added. “I arranged your books by subject, the author, then year of publication..”

“My specimens?”

“Are safely on the shelves,” Molly felt herself blushing under his intense gaze. Even though this Holmes’ eyes were a deep brown, they still contained that ferocious intelligence that she found intimidating at times. “I also wrote some notes regarding some of the specimens, if you are interested in my findings.”

A smile spread across Holmes’ face. “Why yes Miss Hooper, I would love to hear your thoughts.”

~~~

“So what is your Holmes like?” Holmes’ raspy voice cut through the silence. After another day, Molly found herself engrossed in a copy of Alice in Wonderland as the sun slowly slid below the cityscape.

“Pardon?” She peered down at him. He was laying across the tigerskin rug. Obviously he had awoken from his nap and was staring at the fire.

“Your Holmes? What is he like?”

Molly put down her book and thought about it. “Amazing,”she said. “He’s a genius, like you and just brilliant. Tall, with bright blue eyes that burn. No patience for slow thinkers and doesn’t tolerate imbeciles. So he’s very similar to you at times.”

Holmes rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. “So what is his relationship to you?”

Molly’s throat tightened for a moment. “I honestly don’t know,” she said.

“How do you not know?”

“He’s kind to me one moment, then cold the next,” Molly felt the words tumbling out of her mouth. “He’ll compliment me, only to get access to what he wants. He’s not considerate of my feelings, but I feel like it’s not intentional — he’s just oblivious.”

Holmes’ brow furrowed. “In short, he fails to recognize the valuable assets in front of him — other than Watson.”

Molly shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“So you think,” Holmes swung his body up and sat cross legged facing her. “I think he realizes your value, but hasn’t vocalized it yet.”

“Oh he has,” Molly said. “Once. When I helped him with —”

“His fall?”

“Yes. He said I was valuable and he always trusted me and that he needed me.”

Holmes chuckled. Producing a pipe out of his pocket, he began packing it with tobacco. “My dear Miss Hooper,” he rumbled. “He’s already told you your value. He’s not going to say it again because honestly, you should realize it by now.”

Molly shut her eyes and swore. Of course he wouldn’t say it again. There was no need to. It should be stored in her memory also.

“If it should make you feel better, I’ve found you to be a valuable resource.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Holmes replied, lighting his pipe and puffing on it. “Your hands are petite, which has been valuable for some of my experiments, and I have nothing but respect for a person of your gender who is willing to go rooting around a pig corpse for my enlightenment.”

A blush bloomed across Molly’s face. “Thank you,” she looked down at your hands.

Holmes slid over to her and rested his head in her lap. “I have to say that every time we’ve had a visitor it’s been most enlightening and educational. But you’re the visitor who has lingered the longest. I have to say your visit has also been quite enjoyable.”

Molly felt her hands start to card through his hair, working out knots and tangles. “Thank you.”

Holmes purred as she ran her fingers through his hair. The two sat in companionable silence, until thunder began rumbling through and lightning flashed in the windows.

He sat up and pulled Molly out of the chair. Rummaging through the books, he handed Molly a slim volume. “I suspect it’s your time to go,” he said, placing the book in her hands.

“What do you mean?” Molly squeaked.

“Miss Hooper,” Holmes stared into her eyes. “Thank you for assisting me in my endeavors and never underestimate your value.”

Quick a hummingbird, Holmes placed a kiss on her cheek and then Molly felt herself falling again.

~~~

“Oh shit!” Molly shrieked as she landed with a thump in the supply closet.

The door flew open and Sherlock was there, staring at her. “Are you all right Molly?” he asked.

She stood, then examined herself — she was wearing her work clothes, the same that she had vanished in. “Yeah,” she said. “What day is today?”

“Tuesday,” Sherlock frowned. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Quite,” Molly blinked in the bright light as she stepped out of the closet. It was the same day she had vanished. Apparently she hadn’t been missing at all.

A manic grin spread across Sherlock’s face. “You found it!” he cried in excitement. “I knew it was in there.”

Molly looked down at the book in her hands. “I guess I did,” she said, handing him the book. “I hope it was worth the trouble.”

“It should be,” Sherlock grinned. “Thank you Molly for your assistance. You’ve been most valuable.”

“I know.”


End file.
